


Tunnel Vision

by taeminki



Category: B.A.P
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 09:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11354445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminki/pseuds/taeminki
Summary: Junhong joined the swim team in college, and drowned as a result.





	Tunnel Vision

**Author's Note:**

> ~~not important: insp. (barely) by seventeen' s ♪ swimming fool~~  
>  ** _very important:_** warning! unlike a lot of other fics on here, the non-con in this is **not** just mentioned or skimmed. it's not the most graphic thing you'll ever read but it's probably very triggering so if you're going to read this, **please** be careful. also, there are quite a few homophobic slurs and mentions/skims of abuse (both physical and sexual). basically, zelo suffers a lot and i'm really sorry

Water was Junhong's escape. If you asked him what it was his escape from, he wouldn't tell you. He hardly knew himself; all he knew was that he felt amazing when he couldn't breathe, and he felt alright when he hit the surface, and everything went dreary when he left the water. It didn't matter what type of water he was in. Shower or bathtub-- he felt okay. In the ocean, he felt amazing. Ten feet beneath the surface of his school's swimming pool-- he felt like he was in heaven.

Junhong broke the surface and took in a deep breath despite wanting to resist the oxygen for a little longer; his body wouldn't let him. His record was sixteen minutes, but that didn't really count, because he'd passed out after four. That record was set when he was fifteen and he drowned in the ocean-- but his father dove in, rescued him, and then punched him when he woke up for being such an idiot. He hadn't been awake for more than twelve seconds after being resuscitated before he passed out again--force of punch. When he woke for the second time, he was dragged out of the stand by his ear and thrown into the truck, forbidden from going to the ocean again.

That was seven years ago. Junhong still hadn't gone back to the ocean, but he _had_  joined his college's swim team-- so _fuck you, dad_. (His dad didn't actually care. "At least you're doing _something_  useful," he grumbled, and then he didn't buy Junhong the swim uniform so Junhong had to scrape up some money to purchase it himself. Half of that money came from his best friend, Jongup, who really wanted them to be on the team together.)

"Hey, you alright? You look real deep in thought again." Jongup bumped Junhong on the back of the shoulder, grabbing his friend's attention. Junhong was always rather skiddish when he came out of a memory; he jolted and slipped a little and dropped his towel-- and, like always, Jongup laughed, and didn't help, but Junhong didn't mind. He knew he was funny; he knew he was easy to laugh at. He bent, picked up his (now damp) towel and slung it over his shoulders (anyway). He shrugged, nearly knocking his towel away, but his reflexes were quick and they saved his towel (and him from falling about three seconds ago).

"Fine."

"You're lying to me." Jongup said. He glanced around, like his next statement, "Come over later, yeah?" was a secret-- and maybe it was, because there had been way too many gay rumors flying around about Jongup and Junhong lately. Why? Hell is Junhong knew; and he had no care about the rumors, but Jongup thought it was the worst damn thing to happen to him-- to _anyone_ \-- _"I am **not**  a faggot,"_ and Junhong was just glad, in that moment, that he had yet to tell Jongup that he himself was a _faggot_.

With that, Jongup was gone, and Junhong kept his precious secret of them hanging out after school to himself; he even lied when Daehyun came up to him and asked "Are you busy?" Of course, he said "Yes--" didn't lie about that, but when Daehyun asked "With what?" Junhong told him, "Schoolwork," and disappeared. He didn't say _I'm going to hang out with Jongup_ , because that was _gay!_ \-- and for that, it was a dirty little secret.

Junhong told himself to get better friends as he threw his towel over his shoulder. He told himself he was worth more than being indirectly ridiculed and laughed at when he jolted away from sudden noises, but then he told himself it was no big deal, because Jongup wasn't even trying to make fun of him and he could pick up a damn towel by himself-- _stop being so sensitive, you piece of shit_.

(But no amount of picking apart the situations to make them seem less horrible would stop Junhong from thinking badly about them, and himself, in turn.)

 

 

"So, you're not okay. Tell me why," as shitty as Jongup might have been as a person, he was a really good friend, and he'd been a really good friend since he and Junhong were eight years old. They bonded over bruises-- "Look! My dad gave me this one because I threw his keys," "Cool! My dad gave me this one because I was up too late," and other little kid things, like dead moms and the one time each of them had tried their daddy's beer and how it was really fun to draw on toys and how they liked their second grade teachers because they reminded them so much of their moms. ("I called her mom once, by accident." "I did, too!")

"I don't know. I want to go to the ocean again but my dad told me never again. But I joined the swim team and I swim in the pool every day because I like water too much. I guess I'm sorry. But I'm not." Junhong said. Jongup nodded along, "All things you've told me before. That's not what's wrong. What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I guess the gay rumors are getting to me a little bit, too." Junhong said. Jongup snorted, "Right? A bunch of faggots thinking _we're_  faggots-- I'm starting to think we're the only straight people in the whole school. Disgusting. Makes me want to transfer--would rather not catch the voyeuristic freaks sucking each other off in the pool, or under the lunch table-- _fuck_ \--" he shuddered at the thought he'd put in his own head.

These kinds of comments were the kind that bugged Junhong, because he was one of those "faggots" but he wasn't disgusting, and he wasn't voyeuristic and he wasn't about to suck anyone off in a pool or under a table. That kind of stuff stays in the bedroom. He knew that. Even _he_  knew that, but he also knew that Jongup was just looking for any excuse to hate on gay people.

That bugged Junhong, too. Jongup didn't know he was gay, no, but there was also no reason to hate on people who were. Junhong found himself wondering what Jongup would do should he find out that one of his friends was gay; and Junhong was the cat the curiosity slaughtered, so he said it, out loud, with no malice and no expectations, "Jongup. I'm gay."

For a long time, Jongup was silent. His face was blank, the kind of blank that it showed when he didn't know how to feel. Junhong knew he was going to be angry, but he didn't _know_. It was a strong assumption that wouldn't surprise him in the least if it turned out to be true. But he wasn't scared. If Jongup hit him, so what? He knew pain. If Jongup broke their friendship, Junhong would go drown his feelings. He would run home and shower or bathe and he might pass out in the water but that was okay, because his record was sixteen minutes and someone was always around to make sure he didn't hold his breath any longer.

"You're--" Jongup started but then he stopped. His jaw was clenched and he was angry. His fingers curled into fists; his eyes shone bright red, but he didn't hit Junhong. He didn't yell. Instead, he took in a breath and, with the most self-control Junhong had ever recognized in him, told him, "Get out," and Junhong did. He collected his bag, and his shoes, and his jacket, and he didn't look in Jongup's direction, or say a word. He just walked out-- out of his room, out of his house, with no smile toward his sleeping mother and no hug to his cooking sister. He just left.

He didn't drown when he got home. He didn't cry. He didn't feel anything. He slipped past his father and locked himself in his room. His father didn't like locked doors, but if he really wanted something, he would break the door down, so Junhong didn't bother. He lay down on his bed, and he started at the ceiling for three silent hours until he remembered some assignment he had to do, at which point he dragged himself up, pressed his headphones into his ears, and drowned out the sound of loud pounding on his door at one o'clock in the morning, the kind of pounding that was gentle because the door didn't cave in and it gave up after three minutes-- one song length. When it was gone, Junhong still hadn't noticed. He blankly listened to his music, and wrote in his notebook, spilling everything he knew for this essay. It was a research one, but Junhong only had a dying phone and no data, and the library was closed so he was going to have to pull this one from his head.

He got a 95% on it. His dad hit him five times because it was that many percentage points away from perfect.

 

 

For weeks, Junhong was alone. He didn't mind so much. He found he quite liked to each lunch in silence, even if it kind of sucked because no one asked him about his day. He liked to swim in silence instead of stopping and slowing every few seconds so his best friend could talk to him. The glares sucked a little bit; the whispers and the flicks on his ears were no fun. One of the guys shoved him once; he heard someone talk to coach and tell him "Hey, coach, Junhong's a faggot-- you should kick him out-- he might get distracted by us--" and felt kind of happy when the coach defended him, a lot "The hell? Another comment like that and I'll have you _expelled_." He felt special because coach checked on him every day after that, asked if he wanted to talk, made sure he wasn't made fun of too much.

He couldn't do too much about the showers, though.

On the same day Jongup pushed him against the wall and kissed him-- first interaction Junhong had had with him in weeks apart from random eye contact in which Jongup just glared-- Junhong met someone at lunch. Junhong had seen him before, Bang Yongguk. He was a year above Junhong but he didn't make Junhong feel like it. He talked to him casually and let Junhong called him _hyung_  right away. Junhong liked him. He laughed at Junhong's jokes and he was friends with Daehyun. Anyone who was friends with Daehyun was a good person.

(Jongup was not friends with Daehyun. For the longest time, Junhong had wondered why Daehyun didn't like him-- then Jongup started trapping Junhong in the shower every day and kissing him forcefully, started calling him a "disgusting little _faggot_ " every time he ended the rough kisses, as if Junhong was the one who forced himself on Jongup. It made no sense to Junhong, but nothing about Jongup had ever really made sense to him-- like how he could be a terrible person but an amazing friend.)

"Daehyun's told me a lot about you." Yongguk mentioned, scooping a few fries into his mouth. Junhong waited for him to elaborate, curious. There were quite a few things to say about him, Junhong knew. He was funny, kind of. He was weird. He liked to swim and he was good in school. He took forever to message back but he would never take more than ten minutes to call back. He liked to dance, and he went to parties a lot. He was popular, but he didn't have any true friends.

Daehyun had told Yongguk all of these things.

"Daehyun-hyung never really told me about you." Junhong admitted. Yongguk nodded, "He tends to talk to me about other people a lot. He and I are really close-- he tells me you hang around this kid he doesn't like a lot, so he doesn't want to, uh, intrude? I guess? He doesn't want to be around him, so when that kid's around, Daehyun's not."

"Yeah. Daehyun-hyung doesn't like Jongup." Junhong said quietly. And now he knew why.

" _Jongup?_  No wonder--" Yongguk stopped, cleared his throat. He put his fries down, wiped his hands on a napkin, and bent his head slightly, "I'm sorry. I won't say anything, he-- he's your friend."

Junhong didn't correct him, just said "Thanks," and took another bite of his apple. They sat in silence for a little while, and then Junhong inquired, "Why did you come to sit with me today, hyung? I don't mind at all, but you've never talked to me before."

"Oh! Well-- oh, this is going to sound strange--" Yongguk rubbed the back of his neck, "I just... Daehyun told me _so much_  about you, and he'd pointed you out to me more than once. I took a little bit of an interest in you. No. That's a lie-- I took quite a bit of interest in you. I'm so sorry if that sounds creepy-- you just-- you seem like such a good person to date, and I was hoping I could get to know you a bit and then ask you out... but I guess now's a good time to ask you, since you know my plan."

"You want to ask me on a date?" Junhong wondered, kind of smiling, kind of flattered. No one had ever taken such an interest in him before. He smiled a little wider at Yongguk's shy nod; he straightened up and he'd never felt so blissfully happy at a stranger's words. He supposed Yongguk wasn't really a _stranger_ , but he was as unfamiliar as a lot of Junhong's peers. It didn't have to be that way-- dating-- dating-- Yongguk wanted to go on a date! So, "Okay, hyung, let's date," and Yongguk smiled and Junhong smiled and for a minute, things didn't seem so bad.

But Junhong was still on land. He wasn't drowning and everything felt dreary when he wasn't in the water.

 

 

"You have a boyfriend now, huh?" Jongup asked, like he was jealous of the fact. Junhong didn't say a word, only fought to get Jongup's hand off of him. Jongup was already shirtless, and he had thrown Junhong on his bed moments ago--yes, his bed, because Jongup just happened to lure Junhong into his home-- somehow, some way, and Junhong knew he was compliant but why was he _this_  compliant? What did he think was going to happen, really? He was just asking for it, at this point.

"Jongup, don't--" Junhong started, but he didn't get to finish because Jongup lunged at his throat and choked him with one hand, and Junhong gagged on the rough hold and grabbed at Jongup's arm, but Jongup gathered both of his wrists in one hand and pinned him down like he wasn't fighting at all-- and his vision _was_  going a little black, and he _was_  feeling a little lightheaded, kind of like he was drowning, but he didn't like this. There was no water. He wasn't drowning; he was suffocating, and it was at the hands of someone else and he didn't like this at all.

" _Don't_  fucking fight me." Jongup hissed, and he let go of Junhong's throat and his wrists at the same time. Junhong's hands went straight to his throat, like he was going to choke himself this time, but he only held the throbbing skin and rolled over-- best he could with Jongup on his hips-- and coughed. In the meantime, Jongup was able to wrestle Junhong's pants off, and Junhong got ahold of himself when Jongup started to unbuckle his belt.

"No. No, no--" Junhong said, and he tried to push Jongup away, terrified at the way his pants were around his thighs. He was hard, and he was leaking, and Junhong looked away because he didn't want to see it; he didn't want to imagine it. He wanted to go home and drown; he wanted to be at school, swimming, or drowning, or whatever. He closed his eyes when Jongup grabbed his neck again, though not suffocating him this time. He closed his eyes as Jongup kissed him, forcing his tongue into his mouth. Junhong didn't cry. He could have, because he was absolutely disgusted, but he didn't. He didn't bite; he could have, but he didn't. Jongup's tongue came to his teeth-- licking a long stripe from left to right, and Junhong grimaced, but he didn't bite, or spit, or cry, or anything. He pushed, sure, but Jongup didn't budge.

When Jongup licked his teeth for the second time, he went weaker. It was disgusting, but Junhong liked the feeling. With that, and Jongup's small thrusts against his hips, Junhong felt blood rush-- _rush_  past his hips, and Jongup smirked, like he'd won the prize for _best swimmer on the team_ , and he told Junhong, "There you go," and he leaned back, and he started rutting his hips harder against Junhong. Junhong found it hard to breathe. He pushed again at Jongup's chest and hips and wrists, but Jongup got annoyed after a few seconds, and he was rough this time; again, his hands pinned Junhong's wrists and his throat, and he pressed down _hard_.

"Stay _still_ ," Jongup said, but Junhong didn't listen because he didn't want this--but he wasn't stronger than Jongup, by some black magic, so he couldn't fight him off. Jongup just kept holding his wrists together above his head; he just kept pressing down more and more on Junhong's throat; he just kept rubbing his stupid dick against Junhong's. Junhong fought off the tears because he wasn't one to cry on land; he needed a shower, or a bath, or an entire ocean to drown in when he cried. He didn't have that here, not unless he could escape and lock himself in Jongup's bathroom and drown himself in shower water, or bath water, or sink water-- hell, he wouldn't mind drowning himself in _toilet water_  right about now.

But that was a fantasy and this was reality: Jongup was raping him, to some degree, and Junhong couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Jongup, still with Junhong by the throat, threw Junhong off his bed, to the floor, sneered " _Faggot!_ " in his direction and stomped out of his room. That happened when it was all over-- when Jongup had creamed himself and Junhong was still disgustingly hard. Junhong was quick to gather his clothes and his bag and run-- run from Jongup's house, run home. He forgot his textbook and what he had written of his essay but he didn't give a damn about either thing; he ran inside, locked all of his doors, and his windows, like Jongup was going to crawl through one of his home's entrances just to hold him down and call him a faggot some more. He locked his bedroom, and his window, and even his dog's cage after he had ushered her inside. He locked his bathroom, and his bathroom window, and wished he could lock his shower door as he stepped inside, turned on the water-- conscious enough to make it a comfortable temperature-- and drowned in it.

 

 

So, Yongguk and Junhong had been doing pretty good. Junhong had been with Yongguk for months before Jongup found out. Jongup had kissed him every school day without fail, even the day he hadn't showered. Jongup always found him-- outside, maybe, after class, maybe. It didn't matter. He always succeeded. Sometimes, Junhong didn't even fight him. He hadn't fought him for a month and a half before Jongup managed to drag him into his bed. That was three days ago. Junhong hadn't returned to school.

"Tell me." Yongguk said when he came home and found Junhong laying on his bed. Junhong moved in with Yongguk recently--that happened. Junhong had spilled about his dad abusing him, and Yongguk had immediately wanted to go to the police, but _no, hyung, that's my dad and I don't want him in jail because my mom was in there and she died in there_ , and Yongguk sighed and told him _fine-- fine! but you're moving in with me_ , so, without a word, Junhong gathered his things and left. If his father noticed, he didn't care; if he didn't notice, well, he still didn't care.

"Tell you what? That I love you? I love you." Junhong smiled, held his arms out for Yongguk. Instead of laying down with him, Yongguk pulled on his arms, tugged him into a sitting position, and sat down with him. Junhong watched his concerned movement, studied his concerned eyes. Again, Yongguk said "Tell me," and Junhong said "I love you," but "Not that, Junhong," and, okay, "Then what?"

"Tell me why you haven't been to school. Tell me why you're so depressed lately. You're scaring me, baby." Yongguk said. One thing about Yongguk: he was protective and possessive, and those two things seemed to be the same emotion to him. He said _baby_  like Junhong would never belong to anyone else, and he held Junhong like he would never let him leave, but he was also gentle and he didn't squeeze Junhong's fingers or say his words roughly. He was worried, but he was possessive.

"I don't know." Junhong lied. He was kind of good at that--but not to Yongguk, who took the time to get to know him, who knocked down Junhong's wall with a breath. He was strong, too, Yongguk. That was another thing. He looked at Junhong's eyes, intense stare, and, again, said, "Tell me," except it was rough this time.

"Jongup raped me," and Junhong could see the emotion in Yongguk's eyes, but he didn't read it, "But, not really. He didn't even take my underwear off-- just my pants, and my shirt, and his pants-- kind of-- and his shirt. We still had our underwear on, so he didn't really-- didn't really even _do_  anything. He just held me down and rubbed against me for, like, two minutes-- because he has no self control and he cums really fast. His girlfriend is going to be so unsatisfied, you know? I felt it, and it wasn't very big."

"Junhong, are you okay?" Yongguk asked. His expression had turned from hot anger to severe worry. Junhong frowned at him, "Yes, why?" and Yongguk weakly pointed to his eyes, "You're crying," and Junhong touched his eyes, laughed at how wet his fingers were when he pulled them away after a second-- tears streaming down his fingers like his nails were crying.

"Well, fuck," Junhong said, looking back up at Yongguk, "Can I use your shower?"

"No." Yongguk said. He tapped on his thighs, "Come here," and Junhong did, and before he knew it, he was curled up in Yongguk's lap, sobbing the afternoon away.

 

 

 _Walking depression_ \-- because, of course. Of course Junhong had another thing to deal with being diagnosed with. First trauma, and then a concussion, and now _walking depression_ \-- the kind of depression where it isn't obvious, but it's there, but it's easy to ignore but it's really bad for the body, and Junhong kind of wanted to laugh at that because _what kind of feeling can have a physical effect on a human being?_  His doctor told him dogs could die of heartbreak and depression. Junhong wasn't a dog.

"Sunshine and therapy." Yongguk said when they were home, when Junhong was eating cereal and watching television. It was three o'clock in the morning. Junhong couldn't sleep-- because, oh, that's right, he was also an insomniac-- he'd forgotten about that one. Junhong looked at Yongguk and asked "What?" and Yongguk sat down beside him, shirt falling over Junhong's arm because it was just that big. Junhong looked at it for a minute, and then he focused on Yongguk, who was in the middle of a sentence, "--said it would help."

"Who said what would help? Help with that?" Junhong asked, taking another bite of his cereal. Yongguk sighed softly, but with no less patience than he had with his next words, "Your doctor said sunshine and therapy would help--with your depression."

"Walking depression." Junhong recalled. Yongguk nodded, "Yes. Depression. The walking kind."

"The walking kind." Junhong laughed, "Like depression is a person-- hey, what do you think depression would look like if it was a person? Do you think it would be tall or short? Short, right? So that it can climb your legs and suffocate you-- because it's heavy and it likes to pull on your bottom half before it kills your top half."

Yongguk was silent for a while. Junhong looked at him after three more bites of his cereal, curious at the silence. Yongguk nodded slowly, and then he started up, gather Junhong's cereal, spoon, and then Junhong himself, "He said sunlight but I don't see why moonlight can't help, too-- come on, let's go outside for a minute."

Junhong followed Yongguk, mostly because the older man had his cereal and he was really enjoying it. He stepped onto the porch with Yongguk and they stood together, with the cereal back in Junhong's palm, now. He was content. He kind of wanted to be inside watching television, but this was okay, too, because he had cereal and Yongguk and Junhong couldn't think of much else to ask for, maybe except for hot chocolate, but that was something he had quick access to so he was set, really.

"When you told me we were going to the doctor I didn't think I'd come out of it depressed." Junhong mentioned randomly as he was scooping more cereal into his mouth. Yongguk looked at him; Junhong didn't look back. He was curious, but he wasn't going to look curiosity in the eyes anymore. Cats only had nine lives and he'd used up quite a bit of those.

"You didn't come out of the doctor's depressed, Junhong, you went in depressed and you'd been depressed for a long time before that." Yongguk said. Junhong nodded, "I know," and Yongguk raised an eyebrow--it was amazing what Junhong could see from his peripheral vision. He could see Yongguk's lips move around the words he barely heard because his ears focused on a whining bird that was awake at three in the morning, for some reason. Junhong read _You knew you were_ \-- and heard "--depressed?"

"Yes. It's easy to tell, hyung. Your feelings are random and weird and sad and kind of numb-- like I can do my work but I never really know what I'm doing." Junhong said. He bit his cereal again, "I knew I was depressed, but I never thought about it-- just like I knew I had a concussion when I was twelve, and I knew I was traumatized from drowning when I was fifteen, and I knew I was an insomniac in high school-- to now-- but I never thought about any of those things because they're just a part of me. Why do I have to think about being depressed, really? I know it-- I know it because I like water more than oxygen and I manage to float my way through life even when I'm breathing in and out or fighting against ocean waves that are trying to take me. I know it because I've come close to death a dozen times but it phases me less and less each time."

Junhong bit his cereal again, "Yes, I'm compliant. Yes, I let things happen to me. Yes, I'm an idiot. I'm just-- not-- _stupid_."

Yongguk was silent for a long time, and then he slid in front of Junhong-- bumped into his bowl and spilled some of his milk but Junhong didn't cry about it. Yongguk placed his hands on Junhong's cheeks and kissed his lips-- one of the longest kisses he'd ever given Junhong. When it was over, he smiled; Junhong, too, because it was the only long kiss Junhong had gotten that was any kind of gentle, and it felt nice. Junhong wanted more; he pressed forward again, and he got more-- and more and more until it was suddenly four in the morning and Yongguk was yawning because _he_  wasn't an insomniac-- and Junhong's cereal was the soggiest he'd ever seen cereal, and Yongguk was pulling him by the collar and telling him "Come on. Bed. We have to take a walk in the morning before you shower--" because sunshine helps with depression-- "and then we have to schedule you an appointment with the therapist your doctor recommended--" because therapy helped, too. Junhong nodded along and followed along, setting his bowl in the sink when Yongguk pulled him to the kitchen so he might get himself a water bottle to put beside the bed in case he woke up with his thirst again, and setting himself in Yongguk's arms when Yongguk lay down in bed and ushered him into the same position.

"Get some sleep, okay?" Yongguk said. Junhong muttered "Tell that to my insomnia," but Yongguk had already met his dreams.

 

 

Junhong had taken to swimming before and after school, now. He'd quit the swim team but coach still let him have access to the pool when he wanted it, so long as he kept it a secret. Junhong smiled and told him he was good at keeping secrets. Coach trusted him, so Junhong didn't tell a soul he went to the pool before and after school. He didn't even tell Yongguk, who constantly wondered where he disappeared to in the mornings or why he didn't come home for a few hours when his classes were over. Junhong always said homework-- homework, homework, homework-- library, library, library. Yongguk would find out he was lying soon, when he came to the library in one of those hours and discovered that Junhong wasn't there, that he hadn't been there. Maybe they would fight. Maybe Yongguk would accuse him of cheating. Maybe Junhong would just blame Jongup.

Yongguk wouldn't find out anytime soon, though, because he was in America for one of his classes for a week-- a week coming to an end, granted, but Junhong still had like two days to weigh out his options. Come up with a better lie, maybe, before Yongguk bothered to check the library? Blame it on Jongup? Be honest and tell him he was swimming because he'd quit the team? But he promised coach he wouldn't tell and if he was going to keep any promise, it was going to be for coach, the only person to ever defend him in anything.

Junhong had these thoughts in the water but they didn't bother him. In fact, they were freeing. When he got out of the water for a moment to stretch his tired limbs, he felt dreary again. He closed his eyes and breathed and tried to stop thinking. He just needed a minute-- a minute to stretch his body. He just needed to not think for a minute. A minute. Just one minute-- but he was thinking about not thinking and that was still _thinking_  and he hated that he couldn't just shut his mind off, because thinking made Junhong tired and dreary and Junhong didn't need to be any more tired or any more dreary.

Tired. Junhong was tired. So... so tired, but he slipped into the water anyway, because he was all stretched out and he needed his thoughts to not bother him anymore; he needed that dreary feeling to get lost. He let his body relax, and he floated for a moment, but he didn't want to float; he wanted to drown. So he stretched and dipped his nose under the water and accidentally breathed and inhaled some of the water in a way that made his body jolt and straighten out, legs sinking as his head floated. He snorted out water and snot and wiped it all away and let it in the pool; he coughed and rubbed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to will the uncomfortable feeling away. When he was calm, and breathing again, and a little too awake, he dove beneath the water, swimming all the way to the bottom. Down there, he felt sleepy. Down there, he was drowning. He couldn't breathe, and it felt so good. So warm, the water, now that it had sucked out Junhong's body heat and made him as cold as it was. So comforting, the water, surrounding Junhong with everything that the people on land just couldn't stand to breathe in. Junhong opened his mouth but didn't breathe again-- he wasn't that stupid. He just opened his mouth, and closed it, and swallowed, not a care in the world about his dirty it was. He just felt so, so comforted; so, so comfortable. So happy. So... tired. So--sleepy; and he closed his eyes, and let the water lull him to sleep.

 

He woke up in the hospital. His body felt heavy and his lungs felt oddly tired, like he'd strained them. He remembered diving, and that was it. He pulled his heavy arms into the air and let them fall a little too heavily against his eyes. He rubbed them slowly, willing them to open after a minute, when he could move his arms off of his face again. His hand hit something that felt oddly similar to it, and he turned his heavy head, and he looked. Yongguk was at the end of his hospital bed, jerked awake at the rough way Junhong had hit him. Yongguk lunged for him-- wrapped him in a hug, kissed his neck, sobbed and sighed, "Junhong!" and he pulled back and he was crying, "Why is it that every time I leave you get hurt-- or almost die?"

(Yongguk had been back home visiting family when Jongup raped Junhong.)

"Maybe because you're my anchor, hyung-- but the kind that pulls me to the surface instead of the ocean floor." Junhong said; and Yongguk sobbed again, holding Junhong much tighter, this time. Junhong's body was heavy and numb, though, so the hold didn't hurt at all. His arms were heavy, so it took forever to get his arms up to hold Yongguk, too, but Yongguk held him forever; and it was hard to keep his arms up to hold Yongguk, but Yongguk made it easier by dipping his back and giving Junhong an expansion of skin to rest his arms among.

"What happened? Did someone knock you out? Push you in? Did you fall? You didn't have any brain trauma-- no one hit you-- what happened?" Yongguk asked. Junhong almost laughed, because Yongguk always thought it was someone else's fault. Didn't he know that people could hurt themselves, too?

"I was tired, and I wanted to dive. So I did. And the water was comfortable, so I feel asleep." Junhong recalled. He didn't remember diving, but he remembered wanting to; he remembered being at the bottom of the pool all of a sudden and feeling so comfortable; he couldn't help but close his eyes, and sleep. Yongguk pulled away to look at him, to study his face in the way that he did when Junhong said something out of the ordinary. Was it out of the ordinary to fall asleep in the water? No, but it wasn't supposed to happen, either. People didn't do it on purpose-- and neither did Junhong. He was just so _tired_ \--

"Why would you do that, Junhong? Why--" Yongguk cried and cried and cried; he hung his head and looked away from Junhong and cried; he held onto Junhong's hands and kissed them and cried. Junhong briefly wondered how Yongguk could lift his arms so easy to kiss his knuckles when they were so damn heavy.

"I was just tired, hyung." Junhong said. Yongguk peeked at him, a wonder of "Did you do it on purpose? Did you try to drown yourself on purpose?" and Junhong shook his head, "No. I was just diving, and I got tired, because the water made me as cold as it was, so I closed my eyes, and I fell asleep. And now I'm here, and you're crying, and I don't understand why."

"Because. Because, I--" Yongguk chuckled, "I almost lost you, sweetie, that's all."

"I'm sorry, hyung. I won't do it again." Junhong muttered. Yongguk nodded-- proud little smile on his face, and then that smile belonged to Junhong's lips, and his lips were salty but that was okay, because Junhong liked kisses. He remembered even enjoying one kiss Jongup force him into because he licked his teeth and that was oddly appealing--though Junhong would never want _Jongup_  to do it--not again. He only wanted Yongguk to do it.

Thinking about it, Yongguk didn't kiss his lips often. He was more for cheek and forehead and the back of Junhong's hand. Sometimes, Junhong wondered why. Maybe it was because he'd been raped--but not really raped, but still.

"Do you want to go see your therapist tomorrow?" Yongguk wondered. Junhong shook his head. Yongguk sighed, "Why? Baby, why-- he's helping you so much. You said he reminded you of your coach, right? He was one of the only people who ever defended you--"

"Because Jongup thinks it's weird that I go to therapy." Junhong said. Yongguk's face fell; his shoulders, too. He hissed out, " _Jongup?_ " and Junhong had never seen more anger in his eyes, perhaps except for the time Junhong let it spill that Jongup had raped him. Junhong nodded. Yongguk was boiling, "Why are you still talking to Jongup?"

"I'm not. He talks to me-- because he still kisses me a lot because he found out when I go swimming--" and there was his damn secret, blown. But he supposed it didn't matter, because Jongup already knew, and he'd already chased Junhong through the pool and held him underwater and kissed him-- and those kinds of kisses were supposed to be romantic but that one was _not_  and Junhong was started to feel bitter about the school's water.

"--but he knows I go to therapy because I told him because I'm used to telling him everything because he was my best friend--" Junhong played with his fingers. "His kisses are gentle, now. He doesn't hold my throat anymore. He stops when I tell him to, even if he didn't start. But he always kisses me somewhere-- neck, cheek, forehead. He kissed my leg once, because I was trying to climb out of the pool and I was going to run away but he hadn't kissed me yet so he kissed me there-- on my thigh. He told me he wants to be my friend again. He's sorry."

"Don't." Yongguk said right away. Junhong looked at him. He had tears in his eyes and he hated this because he wasn't in the water.

"But--" Junhong started. Yongguk protested, " _Don't_."

 

 

Junhong talked to his therapist-- about everything that had happened recently. He suggested Junhong talk to Yongguk about making his own decisions. Junhong took the advice and talked to Yongguk, but Yongguk shut him down, "No. Not about this. This man raped you, Junhong-- why would you want to forgive him?"

"Because. Because he's my best friend and we're too similar and I think he's probably going through something, too." Junhong said. Yongguk shook his head, "Yeah. Well there's no damn reason for him to take it out on you-- let's go."

(They were in the library, whispering their tiny argument. Yongguk took him by the arm and dragged him all the way home, books left open on the table because Yongguk had no cares in the world when he was angry.)

It took a while for Junhong to try to figure out what to do. Should he disobey Yongguk and re-befriend Jongup anyway? Did he really have to even _obey_  Yongguk in the first place? Did he want to be friends with Jongup again? Could he trust him? Junhong saw all the wrongs of the situation and yet he couldn't seem to let Jongup go. He didn't even swim away when Jongup dove into the pool with him. He couldn't; he couldn't be _that mad_  at Jongup anymore.

Jongup had saved his life.

So, yes, Junhong kind of wanted to be his friend, because he was a horrible person but an amazing friend and if he wanted to look past Junhong's sexuality and be his friend then he was going to be amazing, and Junhong would have someone to tell everything to and he would have someone to get over the past with. Junhong was a strong believer in _the past is in the past_ \-- no matter how good or bad the past was, the only thing that mattered was the _right now_.

"I want to be his friend, but I can't because you won't let me. Hyung, I-- what do I do?" Junhong asked, and what a stupid question to ask. _What do I do?_  as if Yongguk's answer was going to be _disobey me_ , because he seemed to believe that Junhong had to obey him. Surprisingly enough, though, his answer wasn't far from Junhong's out-of-question scenario--

"Baby, I--" Yongguk sounded angry, but his next sigh seemed to calm him down, "I wish you would make a decision for yourself. Even if-- even if I don't favor it."

"Why?" Junhong asked weakly. He recalled when Yongguk told him _No. No, you can't make that decision because that one is up to me_  not four days ago, but he didn't bring it up. He didn't care; he just _didn't care_. It sounded like it was difficult for Yongguk to say, anyway-- maybe he was working at it-- maybe he was listening to Junhong-- maybe Junhong just really didn't care about the contradiction, "No matter what decision I make, someone's going to disagree with me."

"That's okay. That's _okay_ , Junhong. This is your life-- your mind, your body, it's all up to you. If you want to forgive Jongup, you can. I won't be angry at you. I'll be cautious, and probably a little protective, and you might tell me to back off, and I might fight him, and you might get angry, but it's all in a day, Junhong-- these are the kinds of things that happen, and we argue, and we move past it, and we make up, and we still love each other after the choices we make. We support each other. We listen to each other. If you want me to stay away from Jongup because you know I'll fight him because I'm telling you I will right now, I'm going to listen to you. If you never want to see him again, I'll protect you, and I'll make sure you don't see him, and he doesn't see you. This is about you, Junhong. This is your situation and all I want to do right now is support you."

That was... a lot of information at once, and Junhong didn't know how to process it. It was two in the morning, and Junhong could only see the outline of Yongguk's face, yet he was able to stare him in the eyes. He knew exactly where they were; and they shined a little brighter in the dark, the whites disappearing for milliseconds with random blinks that the bodies forced upon their inhabitants. Junhong finally came to the decision, "I think I want to sleep on it-- I want to _try_ , to sleep on it," and Yongguk held out his arms, and supported Junhong's decision.

**Author's Note:**

> open ending? is it even an ending, or is it just a random sentence that i happened to stop with? who knows.


End file.
